


Reconciled

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M, Moody fluff, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could he have possibly done to tick him off?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciled

“Grab lunch?” Danny stood in Steve’s doorway. It wasn't until he heard the tentative note in his own voice that he realized he was sure: Steve was upset with him. The question was why?

“Can’t,” Steve stayed hunched over the small table in the corner of his office. “Figuring out why my checking balance is FUBAR.”

“Let me guess. You’re a dollar fifty off from your bank statement.” Danny walked up, peering over his shoulder, fighting off the urge to touch him.

“Twenty seven dollars and eighty three cents,” Steve was ticking off every item on the statement. From the pencil marks, it was about his third time through.

“Oh, well, better keep on it,” Danny gave in, lightly cupped his left hand around the nape of Steve’s neck, tracing underneath the collar of his t-shirt with the pad of his thumb. “You know, before the universe gets thrown off by the weight of that horrible imbalance.”

He wasn’t getting an objection, so Danny’s right hand went to Steve’s ear, fingertips grazing along the shell before tugging at his earlobe That’s when he got batted away. Fast.

Yeah. Pissed off. Of the “slow-simmering right ‘til the lid blows off” variety.

Danny pulled out his wallet.

“Twenty eight dollars.” He dropped the bills on the table and risked another rebuff, digging his fingers into Steve’s shoulders. He felt his blood start running south when the muscles rippled in response, when Steve’s head drooped microscopically.

"How about we walk to the bank,” Danny said. “You deposit that and we get lunch and talk about why you’re angry enough to _bail_ even though you _said_ we’d…”

“You mean the way you bailed on our plans Friday night?”

Bingo. Jackpot. Game over. 

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal. We were only going to catch the Warriors, have a couple of beers. And my friend who called and was flying through; I haven’t seen him in years. I didn’t realize we are at a point where changing plans matters.”

Steve had turned the chair to face Danny half way through the apology. He looked slightly mollified. Maybe a little embarrassed.

“Well, we are,” Steve said. “So you know next time. We are.”

“Yeah?” Danny suddenly had the urge to look down as his own shoes. “I have to tell you, that’s kind of … awesome to hear. I like the sound of it. A lot.”

“And we weren’t going to see the football game.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on knees, like it’d be easier for him to get through the rest of this without eye contact, too. “I was going to take you to that new cigar bar. The one…”

“The one forty floors up, with the outdoor patio that spins, with a view of the city?” Danny asked, a finger up, whirling in imitation. “The place where you can run up a bazillion dollar tab in a couple of hours, with the hundred year old scotch and to-die-for, hand rolled Cubans?”

“Then I was going to take you home,” Steve looked almost, not quite, genuinely sorry to break the news. “So we could have our first actual, all-out, naked in bed screw together.”

“You’re killing me,” Danny had to go for a little walk around the office. “You are _killing_ me. Okay, now I’m pissed at me.”

“You should be.” Steve was laughing. Under his breath, but still. “You should see the look on your face, babe.”

“That,” Danny stabbed a finger at him. “Is Schadenfreude. That means laughing at the misery of others. And it’s not nice. Nice people don’t engage in Schadenfreude….”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I am sorry, really. We’ll get there. I promise.”

“Can we please go to lunch?” Danny asked, eyes closing, hands deep in his pockets. “Before I go lock your door and break our rule about no screwing around in the office?”

“Yeah, But we’ve gotta make a pit stop on the way.” Steve scooped up the twenty-eight bucks from the table. “Gotta stop at the bank.”


End file.
